Accepance in Goodbye
by Fate Of The Deathless
Summary: Sometimes acceptance can only be gained after you learn to say goodbye. But saying goodbye will never be easy. One-shot. Young Ienzo. Song-fic. Based off of La Dispute's "I See Everything"


"Mr. and Mrs. Alexander? We regret to inform you about the results of the test. Your son, Ienzo, has been diagnosed with cancer. We'll have to start treatment immediately or he won't have a hope of surviving. But we are fairly sure that he'll start faring better after he receives the proper care."

"Do what you must doctor. I want my son healthy again."

"_OUR _son. Will he be able to survive the treatment?"

"We have a team of experts on our side ma'am. He will be just fine."

xXx

_March 5. The cancer is furious but our son is resilient, we have all the faith we'll get through this no matter what the end. Treatments are violent but he keeps on smiling. It's amazing finding joy in the little things._

"Hey, champ."

Ienzo opened his cloudy blue eyes and offered a weak smile to his parents as they leant over his hospital bed. Needles and wires surrounded him and pierced his paper-thin and pale flesh; ugly bruises forming around the injection sites. The drugs being pumped into his young body were cringe worthy, but his parents knew, even now as their son looked to be the epitome of unhealthiness, he would be getting better after this. They had such high hopes for him. They knew he'd make it through. Or, at least they had faith he would.

"How's our little man?" His father's voice was soft and gentle as a large hand came to very lightly stroke his bare scalp. Ienzo smiled at this gesture, but couldn't help but feel a bit sad because of it. He missed his slate locks.

"Tired." He answered simply, letting his eyes close again as he leant against the scratchy sheets and enjoyed the warm touch. Sleep was the only thing he desired to do lately, besides the ever present struggle to get and feel better. Become a healthy boy again like both he and his parents wanted.

"Did you eat today, baby?" His mother asked in a quiet voice, her eyes the same colour blue as her son's, but hers tearing up instead of being cloudy.

"No." Ienzo sighed, keeping his eyes closed. "I was sick again and not hungry as always."

His parents met one another's eyes and exchanged a worried look. Their son was losing and had already lost a fairly large amount his body weight already, and the vomiting and lack of appetite were doing him more harm than need be done. All they wanted was to do was see their boy, their youngest son, acting like other children. Healthy like other children. They wanted to see him running around outside and basking in the sunlight, his smile lighting up his face as signs of hair growth were sprouting on his shiny head.

"The doctors say we'll be able to bring you home soon, kiddo." His father said with a smile, and Ienzo's cloudy eyes opened once more and met his father's. A grin broke out on his son's tired, sunken face, and some of the cloudiness in his eyes seemed to clear; faintly alluding to his eyes becoming jewels sparking like they used to. Before he got sick.

"R-really?" He asked, a new hope entering his eyes, and striking an identical hope into the beings of his parents. They both nodded, and Ienzo continued to beam.

"When?" He asked eagerly. He'd been stuck in the hospital for so long. He'd tell the nurses his time to leave was way overdue. They'd simply smile at him and wonder how a dying boy could have such optimism. Maybe he wasn't dying after all. Maybe he _would _get better.

"In a few days. The doctors want to monitor you for a little while to make sure you're ready to go home."

"I'm ready." Ienzo said, nodding weakly. "I'm ready."

"We _all _are." His mother added with a smile and looked to her husband, the man placing a comforting hand on her shoulder and giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. The hospital was their second home.

They were _this _close to being a family again. A healthy, normal family.

xXx

_April 12. Ienzo's appetites' improved and we thank God every day. But still it's hard sometimes to see him in that scarecrow frame._

"Ienzo! Lunch!" His mother called from the kitchen. The bluenet lifted himself from the living room couch and walked with a slow gait to the kitchen where his mother was flittering around. She wore an apron over her spring dress. She hadn't wore a dress since Ienzo's diagnosis. This was a good moment. Things were looking up.

The young bluenet slid into a chair and smiled as his mother placed a bowl of macaroni and cheese in front of him. A glass of water accompanied that. "You made my favourite." He smiled, grabbing the handle of the spoon stuck in the cheesy mess and scooped out a spoonful.

"Sure did, just for you. I want you to eat as much as you can for me, baby." She smiled and continued her flittering. The kitchen was immaculate, but she wanted to be in the kitchen while her son ate. He didn't like that though, it felt like she hovering.

Regardless of his mother's presence, the bluenet went on to eat the first spoonful; relishing in the taste. You don't realize how much you miss home cooked meals until you're forced to live off of hospital food for long periods of time. Always make time to enjoy the little things.

Spoonful after spoonful was eaten, and with each one, Ienzo's mother couldn't help but feel the hope build up in her chest. A healthy appetite alluded to a healthy boy. And that's all she wanted for her son.

After a final spoonful, Ienzo left the spoon to rest in the bowl and sighed a little bit. "I can't eat anymore. I'm sorry."

His mother came over and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, giving him a bit of a hug. "That's alright, baby. You ate what you could. Why don't you go and take a nap? I'll wake you up in a little bit. The doctor says it's still important for you to rest." She kissed his forehead before withdrawing her arm. His head was still bald, but he was still beautiful in her eyes. Maybe they'd see some hair growth one of these days.

Sliding off the chair, Ienzo walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. He lied on the couch and pulled a blanket around himself, sighing and snuggling down comfortably into it. He didn't close his eyes, but instead watched the clock ticking the minutes away on the wall. He wondered if he was getting better, and he had many more minutes to live than before.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Ienzo's mother sat in the chair her son had been previously occupying and bowed her head over the half eaten bowl of macaroni. She prayed to God, tears running down her cheeks, thanking him for her boy. He was sick, but it appeared he was getting better.

Although still scarily thin, he'd been eating more and more as the days passed. Maybe they'd see a little weight gain on their son's frail bones. They prayed for him to heal, for the sickness to go away. They prayed for his life. They prayed for God to let them keep their boy. They loved him too much to let him go. It wasn't his time. Not yet.

xXx

_July 9. There's a suffering when I look in his eyes. He's been through so much. We've all been through so much but what incredible resolve our little boy shows, only 7, standing face to face with death. He said it's easy to find people who have suffered worse than him. "Like Jesus, suffered worse than anyone," he told me last night, "when God abandoned him."_

"I don't like going to the hospital." Ienzo crossed his arms over his chest and pouted just a bit as the family drove home after a routine check-up with his care team. Little tears formed at the corners of his stormy blue eyes, but he fought against them. He hated to cry over himself.

"None of us do, honey, but it's just to make sure you're getting better. The doctor's say you haven't gotten worse, and you've even put on a little weight." His mother cooed, trying to reassure her son. Truth be told, she hated hospitals and didn't want any further association with them. She just wanted to keep her son out of hospitals and where he belonged; home.

"There are a lot of people sick like me." He said after a quiet moment and a yawn. It was late, and his body was still weak. He was still tired a lot of the time. "I see them when we wait for the doctor. Some of them cry when I see them."

His parents didn't know what to say, and they just kept quiet as the road home was illuminated by the headlights on the car and the moon kissing the pitch sky. His mother flicked her eyes to the rearview mirror, and she could see a storm raging in her son's eyes as he looked forward to the dark road. He was sad. Even though he tried to smile all the time, and tried to stay strong for his parent's sake and his own. He was very, very sad.

"I hear the doctors tell them things. They say they're 'terminal'. And I know that means they can't get better because their families sometimes cry too. I feel sadness for them because they get really sad themselves. And then they cry a lot. I remember when you cried a lot, mommy. Crying makes me sad. It makes me think of those people who can't get better."

In the two front seats, his parents exchanged a sad look from their sad eyes. Their son had seen and been through more sadness and suffering in just a couple of months than most kids his age had seen in their entire lives. Their son had seen so much sadness and pain, and they wondered why it had to be him.

"Like Jesus, suffered worse than anyone," He said softly, "when God abandoned him."

Ienzo's mother bowed her head to pray as she listened to her son speak. He was so young, but so intelligent. He was so innocent, yet had seen so much that his parents wished everyday he hadn't been exposed to. They had to constantly reassure themselves Ienzo was getting better. Their boy would be okay.

"Is God going to abandon me, too?" He asked in a low, mournful tone after a moment.

Again, neither of his parents said anything. They didn't know for sure. And they didn't want to lie to themselves or their son. Because they only knew to take their time day by day, and hope for the best.

xXx

_September 20. We've been playing in the yard lately and spirits are high although his blood counts aren't._

The results of tests at the hospital are disheartening. But their son, their little Ienzo, he is giving them so much hope that this is only a temporary setback. That he would bounce right back with a smile on his face. They prayed every chance they got. God seemed to be playing both fields this time.

Ienzo wanted to be outside all the time. He was a little stronger than before, and he's put on a few more pounds. Although he's not yet strong enough to run like he wants, he walks around the yard, holding both of his parent's hands in one of his own small ones. They'll swing his small body and he'll erupt into a fit of giggles. They can't hear enough of the sound. Their son is happy. He sounds like a healthy child. All of their spirits are high. The hope is higher.

xXx

_October 14. He feels tired all the time._

"Mommy, I want to take a nap." Ienzo says as he pushes the food around on his plate instead of eating it. This has been the common occurrence lately. Doing a task as simple as taking a shower tires out his little body and he has to sit for a couple of hours. It's not uncommon he'll fall asleep during that time. And he's lost his appetite again.

Concerned, his mother shakes her head. "Couldn't you eat just a little bit, honey? You'll lose all the weight you just put on if you don't."

It's now Ienzo's turn to shake his head as he continues just pushing his food around. "No, I want to take a nap."

"Daddy wanted to take you out for a walk."

Tears started running down the boy's pale cheeks and he tossed his spoon down on the plate, clearly very frustrated. "I want to nap! I'm tired!" He whined, sniffling a little bit; all traces of his smiles and normal cheery spirit gone. His mother had never seen him like this. She couldn't help but wonder if the treatment was still doing its job.

Collecting her son's plate, she took it wordlessly to the garbage and scraped off its contents into the can. It was silent permission for Ienzo to leave the table. His mother didn't trust her voice enough to speak.

She watched with teary eyes as he son left the table and meandered into the living room. He didn't even have enough energy to the head up the stairs to his room. He collapsed upon the couch, and closed his eyes.

Watching from the doorway of the kitchen, Ienzo's mother pressed a hand over her mouth to muffle the sounds of distress bubbling up from in her chest. Tears ran silently down her cheeks as she watched her little boy on the couch, his breathing shallow and his body a hollow husk of what he was not even a month ago.

Her husband came in, sensing something was wrong, and walked by his crying wife to the living room. It was getting bad again, he knew.

He knelt down besides the small, frail child and kissed his forehead gingerly. He whispered little comforts to his son, telling him that he'd feel better soon.

But he knew. His wife knew. Even Ienzo knew. He wouldn't.

xXx

_November 30. At the hospital again. It feels like home when we're here._

The admittance was quick, and Ienzo cried as he found himself back in the scratchy beds. He wanted to go back home. He knew that he hadn't been feeling well lately and that he'd probably wind back up here. But he was hoping that maybe it just wouldn't be so soon. Or maybe not at all, but that was wishful thinking.

The doctor told him that he'd need more treatment. Ienzo shook his head and cried that he couldn't take any more of the treatment; that they needed to try something new.

An IV was put in his arm and the doctor said it was all for the best and he'd get better. But Ienzo just cried harder, immune to his parents trying to calm and reassure him with soft words and gentle caresses.

"I didn't get better before!" He cried, trying to pull the IV from his arm in desperation. His parents held at his arms, holding the thrashing child down.

They exchanged a look with the doctor who could only shake his head as he looked to the young boy with his face streaked with tears and his eyes going cloudy again. "We can only hope for the best, Ienzo."

xXx

_December 8. He's getting worse._

Ienzo hardly ate, and slept about twenty hours a day in the hospital bed. The treatment was administered again, but this time, it hadn't done anything.

His parents sat by his bedside, his mother holding his hand as if it were glass, and one wrong move would shatter it. His father gently rubbed his bare head, memorizing the way his son's skin felt beneath his hand. More tears fell from their eyes every day, and they exchanged fewer and fewer words. They didn't know what to say.

They watched their son, whispering his name, and reassuring themselves they just needed to bear this storm.

"He'll get better." Ienzo's mother whispered. "If he did it before, he can do it again."

Prayers were said over and over each day; begging God not to take their son. That they loved him and weren't ready to let him go. They needed him in their lives. None of their prayers were heard.

xXx

_January 19. We buried our son today, our youngest child, and while his death was ugly we must not let it scare us from God. Abundant grace has restored him. A brand new body. And set him free from the torture, finally rid of the cancer. Before the moment he left he briefly wrested from death, suddenly opened his eyes, said, "I SEE EVERYTHING. I SEE EVERYTHING."_

The coffin was the smallest they'd ever seen. The hollow husk of their son, their Ienzo, rested inside. They decided when they attended their son's wake, to avoid looking in the casket. Neither could bear the sight of what was left of their once healthy little boy. He was too thin, too pale. His blue eyes had greyed by the time his heart monitor flatlined.

At the funeral and burial, Ienzo's parents wept. They wept because their hearts ached from their loss, but they also wept because he was free. Their little boy didn't need to suffer anymore. He told them how much pain he was in. He'd told them that he hurt more and more as each day went on. He explained his life was painful to preserve.

The road to this point was difficult and laced with so much suffering. God had taken him, and ignored their prayers. But this did not discourage them from their steadfast faith, even if they hated God's actions. They continued to pray. Every night they bowed their heads and spoke to God. They asked him to tell their little boy that they loved him. They prayed that they hoped their little Ienzo could finally run around like he wanted to. That he could eat full meals and smile without feeling any ounce of pain. That he was the healthy boy he deserved to be.

It was hard to say goodbye as the hole containing their little boy's body was filled in. It was hard to stand back and watch as they came to realize they'd never see his smile again. They'd never hear his voice. That they'd never get to see him grow up. It was the most difficult challenge they'd ever faced, or would face.

xXx

Years went by before they _fully_ accepted their loss. Pictures of Ienzo were hung up everywhere around the house. His smile was seen in almost every room. His radiance, captured forever in a still moment, lit up every room.

They never tried for another child. Instead, they accepted theirs wasn't taken from them by God, but instead, accepted by him. They realized, after a while, it'd been selfish of them to try and keep their son for themselves. He was in a lot of pain, had been suffering every day.

It became clear Ienzo was never meant to linger very long in this world. The only thing his parents would come to regret was the means by which he was taken. They wished it could've been faster, easier, painless. But sometimes things happen that way. And the only thing to do is to accept it.

And say goodbye.

xXx

[A/N: the quality of this is up for debate. Please review!]


End file.
